


Get Some Sleep

by scottmcniceass



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottmcniceass/pseuds/scottmcniceass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living with Derek isn't so bad, when Stiles isn't there. Unfortunately for Isaac, Stiles is over more often than not, especially at night, and sometimes, it's impossible to get to sleep with the two of them together. The only place he can think of to go, besides Derek's, is Scott's. Maybe breaking in through the window wasn't the greatest idea, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Some Sleep

Isaac’s never minded living with Derek. Derek was respectful of his privacy, and Isaac was the same way with Derek. Neither of them went in each other’s rooms. Derek respected Isaac’s 7:30 shower before school, and Isaac respected that the bathroom was Derek’s after dinner until about eight (he never showered at a specific time, but it was always between dinner and eight). Plus, it wasn’t like he had any other options. It was Derek’s little apartment downtown, or the streets.

Now Stiles, on the other hand…. While he didn’t technically live with them, he was over more often than not. Usually, Isaac didn’t really care. He spent a lot of time outside of the house, hanging out with Scott or Erica and Boyd, or at school or lacrosse. But there were a few times when Isaac was subjected to Stiles being over.

And that night? That night, he just couldn’t take it.

Another loud moan ripped through the air and Isaac silently cursed Stiles to every fiery pit of hell. He also kind of doubted that Derek was _that_ good in bed. The constant string of moaning and yells was a little much.

“Oh, god, Derek, right-- right there! Fuck,” Stiles shouted.

Isaac tried to pull his pillow over his head to quiet the noise but, unfortunately, werewolf hearing is a lot better than that or a normal human, and not only was he subjected to Stiles’ over the top shouts, but also the steady slap-slap-slap of skin against skin, and the occasional grunt or groan from Derek which, by the way, _ugh_. He really could have gone his whole life without knowing what Derek sounded like.

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles moaned. There’s a pause in the slapping sounds and then a breathless, “I wanna be on top,” followed quickly by, “I want to ride you, come on.”

And Isaac was just done. “I hope you realize that _I'm still here_!” Isaac shouted.

“I know!” Stiles shouted right back. “I’m trying to get you to leave!”

Isaac sighed deeply and jumped out of bed, pausing only long enough to grab the semi-clean shirt hanging from the end of his bed and his cellphone from the side table.

It was-- he flipped open his phone and checked the time-- one in the morning on a Saturday. Erica’s mom had a strict 10:30 curfew that Erica always followed unless there was a reason not to, and Boyd worked an extra shift at the Walmart on Saturdays, so it wasn’t like he could call them to hang out.

The only other option, really, was Scott. So that’s where he headed.

Sure, Scott was likely asleep, but Isaac had crashed on his coach -- or floor, even-- more often than once, when Derek had Stiles over. He figured he’d just crawl in through Scott’s window, shake him awake, and let him know that he was going downstairs.

It wasn’t like that was creepy, right? He was pretty sure he was the only person in town who _hadn’t_ broken into Scott’s house through the window, because he knew, thanks to Scott’s stories, that Derek’s done it, and he was there once when Stiles did it (“Forgot my key,” he’d explained at the time as Isaac and Scott raised their eyebrows at him), so why couldn’t he? It wasn’t like Scott minded having him over, right?

Whatever, he honestly didn’t care, he told himself. Scott was a freaking saint, anyways, so if he really didn’t want Isaac there, it wasn't like he would say so.

He wasn’t surprised, when he broke out through the line of trees and crossed the street to Scott’s house, that Scott’s light was off. He knew he’d be asleep.

Isaac easily jumped up onto the small, slanting part of the roof that jutted out below Scott’s window, and pulled himself up. Scott’s window either didn’t lock, or he never bothered with it, and there wasn’t a screen in, so it was easy to just slip in and land softly on his feet.

There was a moment of disorientation, before his eyes adjusted, in which he couldn’t see anything in the dark room. But then the moonlight filtered in through the curtain, and Isaac could just faintly make out Scott in his bed, until there was a high pitched, surprised, “Isaac?” and then Scott’s form turned and slipped off onto the floor, out of sight, with a loud thump.

Isaac held in a laugh as he crossed the room the room quickly to flick on the light. It really wouldn’t be fair for him to laugh at Scott after scaring the hell out of him by breaking into his house. It was still hard not to, though.

“No, dude--!” Scott hissed, but Isaac was reaching for the light, anyways, and Scott jumped up and was across the room so quickly that Isaac knew it was definitely thanks to his werewolf powers. He managed to pin Isaac’s arm to the wall above his head before he could turn the light on. “Don’t.” Scott finished, and that’s when the smell hit him.

Scott was turned on.

It wasn’t detectible at first, not when he was standing in front of the open window, the smells of the neighbourhood leaking in. But with Scott standing close enough to touch him, barely any space between their bodies, it was impossible to ignore. And Isaac? He’d never been good when it came to the whole ‘self control’ thing, and within seconds he moved, pulling his wrist from Scott’s grip only so he could slam his hands against Scott’s shoulder, affectively pushing Scott against the wall now.

He probably should have stopped. He should have taken in Scott’s state: naked, hard, sweat beading along his forehead, hair matted down, and said an embarrassed, “Sorry!” and ran out of the house as quickly as possible. But for a moment, just long enough that Isaac couldn’t stop himself, he lost control, and pressed his body against Scott, knowing full well that his eyes were a bright gold, that his face would be contorted, that it was claws he placed against the skin of Scott’s hip, not fingers.

But Scott? Scott didn’t push him away. No, Scott’s made a pitiful whimpering sound and jerked his hips forward, and it was only that sound that had Isaac backing away, because if he didn’t, there was no doubt in his mind that whatever the hell just happened, it wasn’t going to stop at just helpless grinding against Scott’s wall.

“Sorry,” Isaac heaved out, chest rising and falling noticeably with each breath.

Isaac had long since come to terms with his attraction to Scott. It had probably started, if he was honest with himself, that night at the rave, when Scott had muttered those stupid words that made Isaac’s eyes widen, made him rethink every bad thought he’d ever had towards Scott.

And then from there it just escalated, really, with Scott just being there, until suddenly Isaac was staying the night on Scott’s couch, or watching the Iron Man movie while it played on TV, side pressed against Scott’s, with Stiles sitting on the floor at their feet.

Scott was attractive. No one could blame him for noticing that. But they probably could blame him for constantly fantasizing about pushing him down in the middle of the lacrosse field and fucking him roughly in the grass. Or about shoving him against the wall of the showers in the locker room, only the loud spray of the shower disguising their moans, or--

Yeah, okay, so Isaac wasn’t exactly a saint. Whatever. But at that moment, eyes lowering over every inch of Scott’s body, he figured there wasn’t a single person in the world who could look at Scott, look at the way his legs curved and widened the higher you went, or the way those faint hip indentations lowered to where he was struggling to coverer himself with a hand, or at his chest, or his abs, contracting and then loosening with each breath, and not find him gorgeous. That was just impossible.

“I was just--,” Scott looked so embarrassed that it took Isaac a moment for everything to really sink in. Not just Scott being naked but-- the _rest_ of it.

“Oh my god,” he shook his head, torn between wanting to push Scott back up against the wall and finish what they almost started, and laughing really, really hard at the entire situation. “You were--?”

Isaac couldn’t see that well in the dark but he figured Scott’s normally darker toned cheeks had turned a faint red. “Shut up,” he said automatically, keeping a hand covering himself as he walked to his bed. “No one else is home. I-- I needed some, you know, _alone_ time. It’s not funny.”

Isaac sucked in his lips for a moment keep back the laughter. Scott pulled a blanket over himself as he crawled into bed but he stayed sitting up, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m sorry,” Isaac repeated when the laughter no longer felt like it was going to bubble out of him, beyond his control. “I needed somewhere to stay, and I figured--,”

“You could have used the door,” Scott grumbled. “But you can sleep on the couch. My mom works until, like, seven, so…”

Isaac nodded and started towards Scott’s bedroom door. “So, um--,”

“Can we please not talk about it?” Scott begged. Isaac smirked but he shrugged out the door, saving Scott any further embarrassment.

Isaac had learned very quickly that he was the type of person who could pass out on a lumpy but comfortable couch, no pillows or blanket needed. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d passed out like that at Scott’s or, once or twice, Stiles’ or Boyd’s place. Though at Scott’s house he always woke up with a blanket covering him, and he could never tell if Melissa was the one who left it, or Scott.

So now, he flopped onto the almost too familiar couch, surrounded by the smell of Scott and the soft vanilla perfume that seemed to be preferred by Melissa, and threw an arm over his head, trying to sleep.

That lasted all of about five minutes -- Isaac always had issues falling asleep right away-- when a soft sound from upstairs distracted him. At first, it was almost easy to ignore them, or write them off as the wind outside. Eventually, though, they got louder, soft little exhales, ones that, had he been human, he wouldn’t have been able to pick up on.

And then, after, there was a slick, slapping sound, one that he knew all too well, and finally, there was a low, almost stifled moan. The same kinds of sounds that had disrupted his sleep earlier, only quieter and, instead of making him want to run, these ones made his jeans suddenly uncomfortably tight, and his heart hammer in his chest.

Isaac groaned and refused to press the heel of his palm to his crotch-- for all of about thirty seconds, before he gave in to the tempting sounds that Scott was struggling to hold back, and allowed himself that little relief from the pressure.

It wasn’t enough, not nearly, but he was on Scott’s freaking couch, for fuck sakes. It’s not like he could just pull it out and have his way with himself right there, not when all he could smell was Scott’s mom, and not knowing that Scott would totally hear him.

But then Scott had to go and totally freaking ruin him. He’d been fine, up until that point. He could have just bared with it and moved on, because unlike Stiles, Scott wasn’t trying to be heard. But then Scott had destroyed him completely, with one single word, uttered almost inaudibly to the point where Isaac definitely wouldn’t have caught it if he hadn’t been straining to hear every single thing.

“Isaac,” Scott said, and his voice sounded tensed and breathless and fucking perfect. Isaac couldn’t figure out what the hell it meant, though; was he calling him, or was he just-- just sighing his name while he got off? Either way, Isaac couldn’t help it; he swung his legs off the couch and started up the stairs.

He figured Scott could hear him as he climbed the stairs but he either didn’t care, or Isaac was doing exactly what he wanted, because he didn’t stop, and the breathless gasps continued.

They didn’t cut off until Isaac rapt on the door with his knuckles and then waited. There was a loud, almost annoyed groan, and then the sound of Scott’s bed creaking under his weight, and the quiet padding of his feet on the ground.

“Dude, it’s like two in the morning,” Scott said, holding the door almost all the way closed so that Isaac could only see his face. “What do you want?”

Isaac raised an eyebrow and resisted the urge to frown. He’d heard him. He _had_ , right? “You called my name.”

Scott shook his head wildly. “No, I didn’t,” Scott said firmly, but his cool expression cracked and he looked like he was almost about to cry. “I didn’t, right? Shit I-- I didn’t-- I mean, I wasn’t-- not like _that_ , it just slipped--,”

Isaac raised a hand and Scott cut off abruptly. As soon as he pushed open Scott’s door, Scott took a step backwards, but Isaac followed it with a forward step of his own, and moved so that he was pressed front to front with Scott’s naked torso. This time, at least, he had on a loose pair of boxers.

Isaac ducked his head, his hair falling against the skin of Scott’s shoulder, and said, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Scott didn’t tell him to stop. He looked a bit confused, when Isaac pulled back to look at him, but completely on board, nonetheless. Isaac moved so that his hips were lined up with Scott’s and then stepped forward, urging Scott to take a step backwards. Scott moved with him easily.

“I could hear you,” Isaac told him, keeping his voice low, barely a whisper, even though he knew they were the only ones there. “Did you not know that?”

Scott’s legs hit the bed and Scott fell onto it, legs spreading wide automatically for Isaac to fit in between then. “No,” he said honestly. “I-- I was _trying_ to be quiet. I thought you were asleep.”

He looked guilty and, any other time, Isaac might have found that adorable. But right then? He didn’t want to find Scott adorable. He wanted to rip off the remainder of Scott’s clothing, add his own to the pile, and line their bodies up perfectly, skin on skin wherever possible, until you couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began.

“You said my name,” Isaac stated again. “What were you thinking about?” Isaac asked as he kneeled on the bed, pushing Scott farther up the mattress as he did so, so that he’d have more room to move.

Scott’s eyes closed as Isaac dropped his mouth to his neck. “I wasn’t--,” he tried feebly, but Isaac’s teeth slid along with his lips, leaving a faint pink mark on Scott’s skin, fading away only seconds later. “You,” he admitted, “fuck, I didn’t-- I didn’t mean to, but when you came into my room, and then you pushed me against the wall, and I--,”

While he was speaking, Scott’s hips lifted slightly off the bed, attempting to get friction on the erection that was still straining through the material of his boxers. Isaac’s own eyes fell closed and he had to pull his shirt off, suddenly too hot, too constricted, to deal with it. Once he tossed it somewhere in Scott’s room -- didn’t really matter, since Scott’s clothes always littered the place anyways-- he dropped back down, not caring if he was crushing Scott under his weight. Scott was strong, Isaac knew, and he needed the press of their bodies together more than anything, needed to feel Scott’s skin underneath him, everywhere.

“Show me,” he gasped out.

Scott’s hands pushed at his shoulders and Isaac pulled back. If Scott wanted to stop, he would stop. Isaac might be an asshole a lot of the time, he might not be the best person, not like Scott, but he wouldn’t ever force Scott into something he didn’t want.

“What did you say?” Scott asked, clearly not pushing Isaac away. He looked into Isaac’s eyes, and his own were wide and uncertain.

“I said,” Isaac swallowed and Scott’s eyes followed the movements of his throat. “Show me. What you were thinking about.”

He tried not to feel embarrassed. Tried to act like he was totally in control at the moment. Except he wasn’t, not at all, but Scott didn’t have to know that. That’s why he was _telling_ Scott to take over, because it was easier to make it seem like that’s what he _wanted_ as apposed to admitting it was what he _needed_.

“Really?” Scott asked, hands moving to Isaac’s waist.

“Yeah,” Isaac nodded.

Scott flipped them easily and Isaac knew that the only reason why he’d been in control at first was because Scott let him. Or he’d been too surprised not to. Scott was the stronger one, and he knew it, deep down, no matter how many times, before they became friends, he tried to act like that wasn’t true.

“Show you,” Scott repeated, settling himself on top of Isaac now instead. It was easier for him to grind his hips down in that position, and Isaac couldn’t do anything but lay there and wait for whatever Scott was going to give him.

“Like,” Isaac arched into Scott’s touch, wishing he’d taken off all his clothes before getting into the bed, because his cock, rubbing against the material of his boxers, straining against his jeans, was not even close to what he needed. “What you were thinking about. Picturing.”

Scott groaned. “Fuck,” he let out, and Isaac would have been shocked by that -- Scott didn’t really swear, even-- but he was too busy finding it extremely fucking hot. “I-- you were pushing me against the wall,” Scott admitted, eyes closed, like he couldn’t look at Isaac as he spoke.

“We could do that,” Isaac said quickly.

Scott’s eyes flicked open but they weren’t a warm, chocolate brown. They were bright gold. “But,” Scott said, hands pushing Isaac down, even though he was already laying flat against the mattress. “Then I pushed you onto the bed,” he continued. “And-- you liked to beg.”

Isaac didn’t whimper. He definitely didn’t. And when Scott’s hands slid down his chest over his nipples, nails dragging slightly, he totally wasn’t tempted to make Scott’s fantasies come true and actually beg for him to just _do something_ , other than the slow, not enough torture.

“And?” Isaac urged.

“You were naked,” Scott said quietly, hands stopped just above the waistband of Isaac’s pants. He frowned down at Isaac. “I don’t know, whenever I-- I mean, in my mind, it’s like-- there’s no undressing. We’re just suddenly naked.”

Despite everything going on, Isaac let out a small chuckle, because Scott really was just-- undoing his pants. He was undoing Isaac’s pants, and Isaac’s chuckle cut off abruptly. “Is this okay?” Scott asked, looking into Isaac’s eyes for confirmation.

“Does it look like I’m stopping you?” Isaac said, using every last bit of his control not to bring on the change, not to let his eyes flash golden like Scott’s had, not to let his claws or teeth out again.

“No,” Scott grinned. His fingers fumbled on the button of Isaac’s jeans, though, no matter how cocky and sure he looked, and he was slow pulling down the zipper.

Isaac lifted his hips off the bed as Scott tugged his pants down, and then they were gone, added to the endless pile of abandoned clothing on Scott’s floor. Isaac pulled at the elastic of Scott’s boxers and released it, letting it slap back against his skin, wanting to add those to the pile of discarded clothes, too.

Scott seemed to get that, and he was off Isaac in seconds, warmth and weight suddenly gone. Isaac wanted him back but, logically, he knew there was a reason for Scott getting up, and his eyes watched closely as Scott tugged off his last remaining article of clothing, black boxers pooling at his feet.

Isaac fumbled to pull off his boxers, too, all the while trying not to take his eyes off Scott, even for a second, because he wasn’t sure how long this was going to last. How long until Scott said, “We shouldn’t do this,” or “I don’t want you.”

Scott seemed to be doing the same thing, though, because his eyes slid up every inch of Isaac’s body so slowly that Isaac could almost feel his gaze. He refused to squirm self-consciously, or reach a hand down to cover himself. He could pretend to be a confident badass at school, or at pack meetings. He could do it now, too.

Isaac arched an eyebrows, questioning Scott with his eyes instead of his words. Scott looked embarrassed for a second before he climbed back onto the bed, spreading his legs on either side of Isaac’s body. They were a little slick with sweat but Isaac figured his entire body was, too. It was hot in the room, and Scott’s skin was warm to the touch, and their combined body heat should have been too much, but it was perfect.

Except Scott wasn’t moving. He was just straddling Isaac and looking down at him. He was in the perfect position that if he’d just lean forward and move his hips a bit, everything would get so, so much better. But he wasn’t moving.

Isaac tilted his own hips upwards, but Scott put a hand flat on his stomach, keeping him from being able to move them together the way he needed.

“Scott,” Isaac said breathlessly. “Come on.”

Scott tilted his head to the side. “’Come on,’ what?”

There was no room for interpretation in his tone. Scott wanted him to ask for it. “You know what,” Isaac hissed.

Scott moved his hips a bit then, and their cocks rubbed together but not with nearly enough pressure. Isaac’s eyes fell closed and he let his head fall back against the mattress.

“I really don’t,” Scott said, leaning down so that his breath played over Isaac’s chest. “Tell me.”

“Move.”

Scott’s teeth skated over Isaac’s chest, and he ground his hips down. Isaac bucked into the movement and held back a groan. “You know,” Scott commented against his skin. “This is usually the part fantasies where you blow me.”

Okay, so he did moan then. Whatever. No one had prepared him for Scott being so… talkative, okay?

“Fantasies,” Isaac repeated, hands sliding up Scott’s back. “Plural. So it wasn’t just tonight, when you thought of me.”

Scott’s hips gave a significantly harder thrust against Isaac’s. “No,” he admitted, and his voice cracked a bit, letting it be known that he was just as wrecked as Isaac felt. “It wasn‘t just tonight.”

Isaac’s nails dug into Scott’s back and he tried feebly to crush them closer together, his mind wandering, wondering how many times Scott had thought of him, what he thought about. He shouldn’t find it _that_ hot, but he couldn’t help.

Scott moved a hand between them and then his thick, smooth fingers gripped them both together, and he tugged upwards, his hand adding just the right amount of pressure that they’d been missing before when they’d been just sliding together.

Isaac would have been embarrassed by how quickly he felt himself getting close, but he just couldn’t muster up the energy to give a single fuck. Scott was way too good at what he was doing, slowing down his movements at the right time, speeding them up just when Isaac was almost ready to beg him too, tightening his grip when he needed it.

Isaac gripped Scott’s bicep hard enough to leave marks, and tried not to let every single thought in his mind tumble out of his mouth as he bit down on his lip. Scott’s eyes couldn’t seem to be able to decide whether they wanted to be on Isaac’s face, or watching the way they moved together in Scott’s fists.

Scott’s eyes caught his again and held, and Isaac tipped past that point of holding on, and he let himself go, coming over Scott’s hand where he continued to pump them both together, slower now, not as tightly.

Eventually it was too much, and Isaac made a whimpering sound. Scott rolled off him, laying on his back, head tilted towards Isaac, and continued to fist himself in quick, short jerks. Scott’s bottom lip was trapped between his teeth, and Isaac wanted to keep this image in his memory forever, because no amount of porn or wet dreams could ever compare to that.

Isaac rolled onto his side, his stomach a bit sticky, and hesitantly moved a hand towards Scott. Scott let his hand drop from himself and Isaac replaced it instantly with his own.

It was a bit different, doing it to someone else, but he didn’t think he was doing bad, not judging by the way Scott’s eyes looked like they were fighting to close, or the way his chest hitched every time Isaac tightened his grip.

One of Scott’s hands curled in the blanket and the other gripped Isaac’s thigh tightly. “Faster,” he groaned.

Isaac sped up, tightening his grip just a bit. The angle was awkward on his wrist, but Scott let out a breathless moan and Isaac really didn’t mind.

Scott’s hand moved from Isaac’s leg to clamp tightly around his wrist, freezing his movements, and spilled his release over Isaac’s fingers, his head tipped back, eyes clamped closed, lips parted. Isaac slowly unwrapped his fingers from around Scott and they both laid there for a moment, facing the ceiling, chests heaving, hands sticky, bodies sweaty.

Eventually Scott sat up, though, and grabbed a towel that was hanging on the door and wiped off his hand before tossing it to Isaac, who did the same.

“So, my mom is going to be home in a few hours,” Scott said quietly, bending down to grab his boxers. He found Isaac’s, too, and tossed them to him.

Isaac felt suddenly cold, and climbed out of Scott’s bed, tugging up his boxers quickly. He should have known this would happen. In fact, if he hadn’t let his stupid dick control everything, he would have known that this was going to happen.

“Right,” Isaac said slowly, searching for his pants. “I’m sure Stiles is gone or he and Derek are asleep anyways, so I’ll just-- go.” He said, voice barely a whisper. He couldn’t look up at Scott as he searched for the rest of his clothes. Fuck, where were his pants? He just wanted to _go_.

“You’re leaving?” Scott asked, and he sounded hurt.

Isaac raised his eyes to Scott’s. “I thought-- I mean, you want me to, right?”

Scott shook his head quickly. “No, I meant that I should probably lend you a pair of sweat pants or something so my mom doesn’t walk in on us sleeping together in nothing but boxers.”

“You want me to stay,” Isaac stated, words sounding thick even to his own ears.

Scott smiled slightly at him. “Yeah, as long as you want to.”

“On the couch?”

“In my _bed_ ,” Scott clarified, stepping over Isaac’s shirt -- there it was, by the end of the bed-- on his way to the dresser. He pulled out a pair of red sweat pants and tossed them to Isaac. “I wouldn’t just-- do that and then tell you to leave.” Scott said when he turned his back to Isaac to grab a pair of pants for himself. “Unless that’s what you wanted. I mean, if you just wanted, like, a hook-up, then-- then that’s fine. I can deal with that.”

Isaac looked down at the pants, and then at Scott’s back, and he let out a quiet laugh. “We totally should have done the talking thing first, right?”

Scott turned and his lip were lifted slightly. “Yeah, probably.”

Isaac nodded. “Next time we will, then.”

“Next time.” Scott agreed. “For now can we just sleep? It’s almost three in the morning.”

Isaac grinned and tugged on the pants before pulling Scott’s comforter all the way off the bed, letting it fall to the ground. He climbed in under the sheet and Scott followed him.

“Night,” Scott said slowly.

Isaac let his leg fall over Scott’s thigh, and put an arm around Scott’s waist. Scott moved closer to him. “Night.”

And then Isaac _finally_ managed to get some sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm still working on my smut writing skills, and they're still not great. In fact, I was hesitant to post this, because I'm pretty sure it's horrible. But then I figured, screw it. Still, I'm sorry for my mediocre writing abilities, but I hope it wasn't TOO horrible. D:


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